Does it matter what you feel?
The two of them didn’t stand a chance. She would be going back to The Hague, and he was headed to Denver, where he would probably lose his job and find himself working security at a mall. She deserved better than that. Besides, they’d just been through one hell of an experience together, and she’d been dependent on him. Her feelings might change after she’d been home for a while.
“I thought you’d lost the lass to the river,” McManus said.
“Yeah, I did, too.”
One minute, Shanti had been right beside him. The next, she had disappeared below the water. He’d dived for her, but hadn’t found her until her head popped up a good ten feet downriver where the strong current had taken her.
It had scared the livingfuckout of him.
Two Navy SEAL RHIBs drew up on either side of them, and two corpsmen boarded with a litter.
“We’ve got her.”
But Connor didn’t want to let her go. “I’m staying with her.”
Everyone except for McManus, Segal, and Isaksen climbed onto one of the two RHIBs, which were heading toward a US Navy amphibious assault ship that was hanging out in Bangladeshi waters in the Bay of Bengal. From there, they would fly in a Chinook to Dhaka. The other three would take the little boat back to Cox’s Bazar and catch a separate helicopter to Dhaka with Shields and the geek team. They would all fly with Shanti to the Netherlands—provided the ship’s surgeon thought she was stable and strong enough for the flight.
“Hey,cabrón, go catch us some fish,” Cruz teased McManus.
“Go catch the clap,” McManus fired back.
Isaksen and the SEALs were ribbing each other.
“Vikings make the best seamen,” Isaksen said.
The SEALS laughed—and flipped him off.
Connor sat beside Shanti, holding her hand while the Doc and the corpsmen checked her vitals and did their best to keep her comfortable as the RHIB bounced its way over the waves.
Twice she opened her eyes and asked for him, looking terrified and confused. “Connor?”
“I’m right here. You’re safe now, Shanti. You’re going home.”
The boat ride to the ship took about an hour. The ship’s surgeon and Tower were waiting for them.
“Let’s get her below,” the surgeon said.
Tower clapped Connor on the shoulder. “You go, too. I’d like them to look at that graze wound on your temple.”
Connor didn’t object because that meant he could stay close to Shanti. While corpsmen did X-rays of her leg, gave her IV fluids, and checked her for a possible head injury, another corpsman examined both of his graze wounds.
“Those are good stitches. How long have they been in?”
Connor had to think. “Five days.”
“And you lost consciousness?”
“For about an hour.”
“No CT scan?”
“Not in the jungle.”
“You might want to get that checked out when you get home. The shoulder wound is healing well. It looks like you got lucky twice.”
From the other side of the curtain, Connor heard Shanti’s voice.